Red Dead: Morgan's Return
by the unknown spirit
Summary: Arthur Morgan thought he had pushed all he could. An outlaw at the edge of his rope who died like a hero. That's how his story ended. Right? Well due to some timely intervention, Arthur not only finds himself alive but also a having missed out on a few years. With the world thinking he's long dead, Arthur sets out on a journey to find those he lost and those he means to kill.
1. Chapter 1:Ressurection

How did things go so wrong?

That was really all that Arthur could think about as Dutch's boot pinned his hand to the ground. The man Arthur had looked up to most of his life, the man he had considered a father. Stepping on his hand, and knowingly stopping him from ending the life of the bastard who'd sold out their gang.

"It is over, Arthur." Dutch's voice was trembling. Whether it was rage, sadness, insanity or something else, it didn't matter. Arthur was passed the point of caring why, yet he still pressed on. Out of some long-broken sense of loyalty that was supposed to have united them all.

"Oh, Dutch…." Arthur forced himself to speak, blocking the astounding pain in his chest that would soon finish him. "He's a rat….." Arthur could hear Micah growling just a few feet away like some injured, embarrassed rodent. "You know it and I know it."

The pain in his chest exploded tenfold and Arthur wheezed out another splatter of blood. "He's sick." Arthur could hear Micah almost giggle. "He's dying. He's…..talking crazy."

There was a small gasp of pain from Micah that nearly brought a smile to Arthur's face. He had almost been able to kill the lying bastard, after all. The mighty Micah, nearly put down by an almost lifeless lunger. He'd never be able to live that down.

Dutch turned his head at the cries of nearby Pinkerton agents. As he looked around, Arthur searched for any sign of his old mentor in the eyes of the man who stood over him. The man who had brought him up and formed this group. The man who had once lived by a code. "I gave you all I had." Arthur coughed, scowling in disappointment towards the man. Dutch eyes fell back to Arthur. " I did." Arthur repeated, struggling to find any such indicator. Then there it was. A crack in Dutch's stern façade that quickly spiraled into uncertainty.

"I…." His voice was filled with fear. He wasn't sure if he was in the right anymore and Arthur saw for a moment, the face of his mentor forcibly acknowledging what he was doing. His boot flew away from Arthur's hand. "…I….." Dutch's fear turned to shame and regret as Arthur tried desperately to grab the revolver one last time, but when another wave of coughing exploded out of him, he knew he'd never be able to aim the damn thing correctly, even if he grabbed it. Arthur finally gave up on the weapon and rolled onto his back, looking up to nigh sky that somehow still managed to look serene when everything was going to hell below.

"C'mon Dutch." Micah's tired voice still annoyed Arthur even as he lay dying. "Let's go buddy. We made it. We won."

Arthur could tell that the bastard's hubris was damaged but still intact. He must've thought that Arthur was going to be the last gang member left. "John made it." Arthur groaned out. "He's the only one. The rest of us…. no." Arthur struggled to put on a small smile as he imagined the look of rage on Micah's face. "But I tried…In the end, I did."

Whether it was that little nugget of information or Dutch's continued silence, Arthur could tell something had changed in Micah. There was an air of fear and panic as words continued to slither out of his mouth. "C'mon." Micah pleaded at Dutch. "Let's go, we can make it!"

Arthur looked to his mentor for the last time, wondering if he'd really listen to the man who had sold them all out. Dutch's uncertainty vanished when Arthur met his eye and he looked to Micah with long glare as he started to move away from the two of them, one slow step at a time. Arthur let out a little sigh as Micah continued his pleading. "C'mon Dutch…..C'MON!"

The yell echoed all over the mountain but to Dutch, it might as well have been miles away. He kept on walking until he finally vanished from sight. Letting out a growl that sounded more wolfish than man, Micah started back down the mountain in the opposite direction.

Now alone, Arthur thought about everything that had happened to him. His childhood. Dutch and Hosea picking him up for the first time. Issac, Eliza, and the life he could've had with them. Mary Linton, and hoping she'd finally find someone who she could spend the rest of her life with. Charles, Tilly, and Sadie, and wishing that they could find peace. The members of the gang he'd lost in the last few months. Shaun, Lenny, Hosea, and the shame they would've felt if they knew what was going to happen once, they had passed.

And then there was Marston, the one he had probably been the hardest on aside from Micah. Dutch's favorite, little Johnny Marston was now somewhere out there running to his family and hopefully getting far away from all this chaos. If most of his life was one of regret, Arthur was glad he could be proud that he helped him do so. He could die with some measure of respect for himself intact.

 _"How do you want to be buried Arthur?_ "

Hosea's words from almost a lifetime age washed over Arthur's brain like a river. He let out another tired cough as he tried to remember what his answer had been.

 _"Ah, I don't care about that nonsense. Just face me to the west so I can watch the setting sun and remember all the fine times we had that way."_

West. Arthur's forced his eyes open and rolled back onto his stomach. He had to be looking west before he went. That was the one goddamned thing he asked for. He started crawling over the rocky road right up to the peak of the mountain. His muscles were bursting and the pain in his chest only worsened with each nudge forward, but he paid them no mind. Finally, Arthur found himself right at the top. He fell back to his stomach and for the final time, rolled onto his back. The darkened sky was lighting up with shades of orange and red as Arthur tilted his head to the side. He looked out over the horizon expecting to see the still dark fields and forests below but instead was greeted by the dazzling show of light accompanied the rising sun.

He wanted to laugh. He had tilted his head the wrong goddamn way.

As his strength finally gave out, Arthur's vision began to darken and the spectacular showing of light from the morning sun started to fade and warp till it almost looked like the outline of a grazing white tail deer. The deer looked up from it's grazing as Arthur's eyes closed and for a split second its eyes saw into Arthur's before everything went dark.

The first thing Arthur noticed about hell was that it was surprisingly cool and more than a little breezy. He never gave too much thought to the afterlife but from what he could remember he was told that hell was supposed to be a hot and terrible place. Not a cool, windy one. He breathed in what should have been some sort of hellish fume but instead was rather cold and crisp air. Not unlike the kind he'd get atop a mountain somewhere. Things clicked in Arthur's mind as he began to remember what happened. He had been on a mountain. It's where he had…died. He opened his eyes which he regretted instantly as a blinding light smashed into his corneas. He growled out a series of curses and waited a few moments before trying again. This time he put a hand up to block out the light and hopefully get a better look at what was around him.

As his eyes adjusted, the area around him came into view. He was laying against a rock and could see he was overlooking some sort of cliff. Risking being blinded once again, Arthur lowered his hand to look ahead of him. The sun was right where it had been, the plains, the woods. It was all still there. If anything, it looked a bit more colorful than before. He allowed himself to wonder if he had, somehow, ended up in heaven. That thought was immediately ruled out when he felt a large cough come out of him. Heaven wouldn't let its people bring in diseases, would it? If so, he felt bad for Thomas Downes.

He accidently allowed a smirk onto his lips but that little burst of energy was enough to let him know that he did indeed have energy. Plenty of it, in fact. The type of strength he would rarely find after an exceptionally good sleep.

He pulled himself back up to his feet and looked down at himself. His clothes were the same, but they were cleaner and softer than ever. Almost as if he hadn't been in a gun fight at all. He felt up and down to see if any of the Pinkertons had taken anything. Nope, it all was still there. His holsters, his revolvers, some ammunition, his money. All still right were he left it. And then, he felt something in his right-hand coat pocket. He reached in and pulled out a folded-up letter that had his name written on it.

Arthur opened the letter.

" _Evening or Morning chap,_

 _I'm not sure you'll remember but I'm the fellow you managed to help when you found all those carvings for me some weeks ago. Francis Sinclair was the name. Now, I know you were probably more than a little rattled by our last talk and believe me It only gets more confusing from here, but the point is, I decided I needed to thank you with more than a little moola. I found out you're suffering from TB, so I mixed up a little something for ya. You should find it in your saddlebags. It's not an instant fix, so don't go around gabbing that it's a miracle. Just keep taking it every so often and get yourself somewhere with a dryer climate. With any luck, that cough of yours will just sort of go away. I hope you live a good life now Mr. Morgan, otherwise I'll regret doing this for you._

 _Chow,_

 _Francis."_

It all might as well have been gibberish. A cure, living a good life. And what did he mean in his saddlebags. His bags were down with….

A lonesome horse cry bellowed out from the path below him. Arthur turned around and froze at the sight of Buell came marching up the path like he'd just been called. His eyes as full of life and energetic as they had been before the attack by the Pinkertons. Buell strode right up to Arthur and lightly nudged him in the face trying to get some sort of response from the outlaw. The minute the horse made contact, Arthur let out a heavy, emotional breath. This shouldn't have been possible. He had watched Buell die and yet here he was. Here they both were.

He patted Buell's face and gave the horse the closest thing to a hug a man could give a horse before speaking. "You just as confused as me, boy?" Arthur chuckled, wiping away what might've grown to be a tear in his eye. Buell stomped in what Arthur's mind was agreement which in turn gave Arthur another chuckle. " I thought so." Arthur looked back and noticed his saddle still attached along with yet another note

 _"I managed to keep him alive. Horse is almost as tough as you, Mr. Morgan. Just don't push him too hard, right away_."

The smile he had as he mounted his horse would make even the most sour men smile. "All right, boy. Let's just see what the hell is going on here?" Arthur said before Buell began galloping down the mountain. Right past where the bodies of Pinkerton agents should've been and right past the point where Buell had once been fatally shot. Arthur once again let out a laugh. None of this made a lick of sense. He was sure he had died on that mountain and he was sure Buell had passed as well. Yet here they were. Riding once again. And for the first time in months, he didn't feel like complete shit. Arthur's chest still hurt but it hadn't been nearly as bad as it once was. He'd certainly look into whatever Francis had left him but first he needed to figure out just what the hell he was going to do.

A few things started rolling through Arthur's mind at once as he and Buell barreled down into forest. Firstly there was the urge to go after Micah. Even if he didn't like being in the revenge business, what that snake had done not just to him but to the gang had couldn't go unpunished. Then there was meeting up with Charles. With any luck he and Rains Fall got away from the army in one piece but he still felt obliged to make sure. Tracking down Dutch also crossed his mind but he wrote that one off almost as quickly. He might have walked away from Micah in the end, but that didn't make up for what had happened before. Then there was Francis. The mysterious, gibberish speaking man who seemed to be responsible for Arthur getting better. He hadn't stuck around to see his work complete and there was the mystery of why he even helped at all. That was a whole other ordeal that needed to be looked into. That thought as well as all the others came to a screeching halt when he came upon Beaver Hollow.

 _"You be quiet Mr. Bell! And put down your gun."_

"Ms. Grimshaw." Arthur whispered, thinking back to how when everything fell to pieces and the gang splintered, she'd been the only to side with him and John. Surely if he was still up and living, she could be. "Ms. Grimshaw!" He called out to the area that had once been the camp but looked like no one had been seen here in a while. He rode through the area, repeating her name in case she was just outside his sight. No response.

Next, he rode up to the cave. "Susan, it's Arthur!" He shouted into the darkness. He waited for a reply but after his echo vanished and the moments passed he grew worried. He got of his horse and started for the entrance but he froze just before he could go inside. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a small cross standing in the ground a few feet away from Butcher's Creek. Arthur held his breath as he started towards it. Once he was close enough, Arthur could clearly make out the letters written on it.

"Oh, Susan." Arthur knelt down towards the cross over Ms. Grimshaw's grave and bowed his head. It wasn't fair. Why was he up and moving and not her? She had been the one who held the camp together. His thoughts drifted back to her getting on Karen, Tilly, and Mary Beth to work more. Her and Uncle's odd little moments. Her getting Arthur to come with her and get Tilly back when she was kidnapped. She had been just as loyal and as tough as Hosea and himself. She didn't deserve what happened to her. Dying on the ground because of that bastard traitor Micah.

He clenched his fist in spoke in a low hush as if not to wake her from her eternal rest. "I'm so sorry, Susan." He wished he could say more. He wished he was some sort of great man of words who could do some justice to the woman who had practically be a second mother to him. But he couldn't. He was just some outlaw that had lost a woman he cared about.

He stood back up and turned to walk away. His mind returning to the plethora of things that needed doing but also now contemplating a different matter. Ms. Grimshaw had a grave and not a new one either. The wood of her cross was older and the ground she was buried under looked like it hadn't been touched with a shovel in a good while. That and the camp was long gone. Almost like it had never been there at all.

"Just how long have I been asleep for?" He wondered as he got back on his horse. He needed to start thinking and get his affiars in order. He thought about heading to a nearby town but at the risk of attracting any Pinkertons or other unwanted attention, he supposed the closest safe place he could go to do that was a little cabin further north. One in which a helpful widow would hopefully allow him some time to think and plan on what to do next. "Let's go, boy." He spoke to Buell who gave a loud huff of acknowlegment before bolting out of Beaver Hollow.

* * *

 **A/N: So, RDR2 is now one of my favorite games ever. And I wanted to take some time to start a little story about Arthur and would've happened if he suddenly came back to life during the epilogue. Hope you guys enjoyed it. I'll see you next time**.


	2. Chapter 2: Gunslinger's Return

The gallop north was more nerve racking than it should've been. Arthur's eyes darted back and forth, right and left. Searching for any sign that he was being followed by Pinkertons or better yet, Micah. But nothing ever reared it's head, save for a few animals here and there. An agitated huff from Buell let him know he wasn't the only one who was paranoid. Arthur smiled and gave a firm but thankful pat to him. After going through the going through that firefight at Beaver Hollow, he must've been just as nervous as Arthur. Hell, probably even more so, he'd actually been shot. Still, the pair pushed on up into the hills, taking the more isolated paths rather than traveling through Annesburg.

Finally, the familiar path to Charlotte's cabin was running under their feet as they trotted through the trees that kept her lodge a secret to most of the world. When they were finally within sight of the cabin a strange song reached their ears.

"Nobody knows what waits ahead. Beyond the earth and sky. Lie-d Lie-d Lie. I'm not afraid to die"

Arthur halted Buell some feet still in the forest, out of sight of Charlotte's cabin and presumably the woman singing . Though female, Arthur didn't recognize it as Charlotte's voice. It was older and more prickly sounding than the kind woman he had first met at her husband's grave. Yet oddly enough, it sounded familiar.

"And there the work of my own hand. Be broken by and by. Lie-d Lie-d Lie. I'm not afraid to die"

Arthur's brow furrowed, trying to figure out exactly he had the voice before. He thoughts drifted back to his time in Lemoyne and he started combing through memories of anyone or anything that could point him in the right direction. The Braithwaite girl who fell in love with a Gray? Nah, the voice sounded to old. A female Lemoyne Rider? Come to think of it, he couldn't recall ever running into a female Lemoyne Rider so that was out.

"Sometimes it finds me fast asleep. And wakes me where I lie. Lie-d Lie-d Lie. I'm not afraid to die."

His mind remembered the sound of a firing Gatling gun and Arthur could picture himself standing in front of a lonesome house just inside a Lemoyne swamp, rigged with explosives to ward off bounty hunters and called home by a woman who at one time was one of the most feared gunslingers alive. With a nervous smile, Arthur gave a light "Hya" to Buell who continued on out of the forest and into view of the cabin. The woman singing must've caught sight of him shortly after as Arthur was greeted by the entrance to the cabin with the familiar sight of a Lancaster Rifle pointed square at his head.

"That's close enough." The woman called out, her voice now hard yet still keeping that prickly flare that Arthur had recognized. "You a bounty hunter?" She asked.

Arthur could do little else but let out a sigh. Did this woman always have to greet people this way? "No I ain't." Arthur replied, raising his hands above his head. "And you should know that, Ms. Belle."

Black Belle kept her rifle on Arthur as she tilted her head. She was still dressed in the same dark colors he had seen on her when they first met but her signature had was gone, allowing Arthur to see a rather messy sprouting of long grey hair atop her head that was combed to her left side. She blinked a few times before her eyes widened in recollection. She let out a light chuckle and slightly lowered her weapon. "Well, I'll be damned. Jim Calloway's boy."

Arthur shook his head in annoyance. "That's not my name."

"It's reason why we met, if I recall correctly." Belle replied. "Though honestly I didn't recognize you without the hat."

"Yeah, I done gave it to someone else. " Arthur nodded. "And that Calloway business has been behind me for a while now. I"m actually just here to see a friend."

Belle's steely gaze softened as she understood. "You a friend of Charlotte's?" Belle asked, finally taking her aim off Arthur.

"I think so." Arthur replied, happy to lower his arms. "I was wondering if I could rest up here for a while. I've..." His words were stopped in his throat as a familiar bout of coughing burst from his mouth like an opened dam. It hit with such surprise and force that Arthur lost his balance and grip on Buell. The pain that came with him hitting the ground only worsened the coughing fit as Arthur started covering his mouth and gasping for air in between coughs.

Whatever lingering suspicions Belle might've had for Arthur vanished the moment he hit the ground. Tossing her rifle behind her, she pulled one of her undershirts over her mouth and knelt down to the sick man in front of her. "Easy, Easy." She told Buell who looked like he was about to get spooked at the sudden movements in front of him. With that solved, she gritted her teeth as she lifted Arthur's arm over her shoulder and heaved him back to his feet. A painful groan from her did little to halt Arthur's coughing as the two stumbled into the cabin. Once there, Arthur again found himself on Charlotte's mattress fighting back a sickness that just wouldn't go away. Bell, searched through his pockets looking to see if he had any medicine.

Struggling through his cough, Arthur managed to get out two words. "Saddle...bag." Belle understood and marched right back out to Buell. She tore through the saddle looking for vials or bottles of liquid that could help in this situation. After a moment or so, she finally felt inside a pack that had a few bottles in side. She pulled one out half expecting it to be whiskey but smiled when it read MORGAN MEDICINE. She rushed back inside to the still coughing Arthur and quickly uncorked the bottle. He downed it quickly spitting up some as a cough got in the way but most made it down his throat until he was about a quarter through the bottle.

His cough lingered on for another few moments but there was a noticeable relief. So much so that Belle's eyes were wide with disbelief. A cough that bad meant more than likely the man was suffering from TB. And she knew from experience that no medicine worked that fast or at all for such a disease. She looked at the bottle again then back to Arthur who finally seemed to be able to catch his breath. And after a few moments of deep breathing, Arthur spoke again.

"Thanks, Ms. Belle."

Belle shrugged and pulled the shirt down from her mouth. "Don't thank me, it was this medicine ya got." She said handing him the bottle. He took it with a groan as he sat up and put his feet back on the floor. "I ain't never seen anything like it. Man coughing like that should be spitting up blood and in a sanitarium somewhere."

Arthur gave another nod. "You ain't exactly wrong Ms. Belle." He looked up to her with a renewed interest. "You didn't seem shocked when I fell of my horse."

Belle scoffed and leaned up against the wall across from Arthur. "These days, it's rare I come across something I haven't seen before. How long have you been sick for?"

"A few months, I guess." Arthur replied, almost instinctively. He froze as he remembered Grimshaw's grave and the seemingly long amount of time that must've passed between then and now. "Actually, can you tell me what year it is?"

"What do ya mean?"

"I think, I've been in a..." He struggled to find the right word for it. "A sleep of sorts?" He shook his head at how silly that sounded. "And I just need to know how much time's gone by."

Belle looked skeptical but nevertheless gave a quick nod. "Fine, when did you fall asleep?"

"1899, I think."

Belle's eyes went as wide as dinner plates and she smiled, seemingly waiting for the follow up to a joke that never came. All she got was Arthur standing in silence, cautiously awaiting his answer. When she realized that he was truly serious, her smile vanished. "It's 1907, kid. April 23."

Arthur's face went white with confusion. He gave a half smile before shaking his head and letting out a cold, sad, chuckle. "That's uh...That's long time to be out of it."

"Seems like it." Belle replied. "If you're telling the truth, that **is** a first."

"Well, glad I could surprise you Ms. Belle." Arthur said, rubbing his forehead. Eight years? That wasn't possible. Nothing about this situation was. He moved to scratch his chin when he realized his beard was gone as well. He let out another chuckle at the thought of Francis Sinclair having to shave an unconscious man. "Don't suppose anything big has happened since I've been out of it?"

"You're asking the wrong woman." Belle laughed. She leaned against the wall opposite to him right by the window. "All the years start to blend together when you're my age."

Even though Belle had a few years more than he did, Arthur couldn't quite disagree."So, where's Charlotte?"

"Out fishing." Belle replied. "Apparently I can't cook for shit, so she took off to catch something herself."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Charlotte wouldn't say that."

"I didn't say she said it, but I can put two and two together." Belle explained. "Besides, her cooking's better anyway."

Arthur wanted to smile but his thoughts were still on his long sleep and how much people can forget in that amount of time."You think she'll remember me?" He asked looking to the ground.

"Eight years ain't that long." Belle replied, leaning over and tapping his shoulder. "Besides if you're the same man she wrote about, I imagine she'll be delighted to see you."

Arthur looked up to Belle."She has a book now?"

"I wouldn't call it a book, more a journal." Belle corrected. "Anyway it talks about how some mister who came across her one day and decided to help her turn her life around. I take it that's you?"

"Bah." Arthur shook his head at the wording of it. "It wasn't anything like that. I just gave her some basics. She turned her own life around."

Belle scoffed and crossed her arms."Not the way she talks about it but whatever you say. So I guess that makes you Arthur Morgan."

"I am." Arthur replied.

Belle let out a chuckle as she looked over him. "Well good to officially meet ya. Maybelle Colter." She extended a hand which Arthur took gladly.

Arthur gave a thankful smile as he stood back up. "Likewise Ms. Colter."

"Ah, you can stick with Belle if ya want." Belle replied with a wave. "It's what I'll be remembered for."

The pair walked out of the bedroom and into the living area. "You want some coffee?" Belle asked, walking into the kitchen.

"Yes, please." Arthur replied,his mouth feeling dry and excited at the thought of a warm brew. He then remembered just who had asked him that. "If you don't mind me asking Ms. Belle, what are you doing here?"

Belle shrugged as she poured. "I got tired of running. Got the idea of setting up a little place north of Annesburg and live out my days quietly." She walked back to Arthur with a full cup. "Little did I know, someone already had that idea. "

Arthur nodded thankfully, and quickly sipped some coffee down his throat. It was piping hot and almost dirt-like in taste but the smile he had told Belle that he loved it. "So I met Charlotte, told her who I was and, being the nice girl she is, she decides I can stay up here until death finally mans up and comes after me." Belle finished, walking back towards the still open door to the outside. "Sometimes, I wonder what's taking him so long?" She asked in a lowered voice more to herself than Arthur.

Arthur looked up from his drink and back over to the door where Belle stood, looking out into the surrounding forest. It was stupid that he was realizing this just now but she really had changed since he last saw her. While there was still a kindling of fiery spirit in her but she seemed more weary now. It painted a vivid image in his head of how much he himself had changed in little under a year and how much Belle could've in eight times that. He let out a sigh as he finished his drink and walked over to her. "For what it's worth, I'm glad I got to meet you again."

Belle let out a surprised laugh as Arthur walked up to her side. "Well aren't you a sweetheart."

It was Arthur's turn to laugh. "Far from it ma'am . Just speaking the truth." Arthur replied. For one reason or another, he felt like he could be honest with this woman in a similar way he could with Hamish. He almost frowned at the memory of the old veteran but quickly refocused his words. "Before I, went to sleep." He still hated how that sounded. "I had to rethink a lot of things and...I wanted to try and be better."

"And now?"

"Well I thought I'd be dead by this point." Arthur chuckled. "But at the same time..." He looked out to the woods and breathed in a cool breeze that blew out from the trees. "I'm glad I'm not." Not a moment after he finished his words, the pair caught sight of five silhouettes emerging from the forest. Each of them dressed in dirty overalls and wielding various firearms and knifes.

Arthur stepped forward as Belle pulled her Lancaster off her back. "You lost friend?" Arthur asked, shifting his gaze from each man until one spoke up.

"Nah, I think we've found what we're lookin' for. Right boys?" The leader of the grou said, removing his shotgun from his choulder and pointing it downwards. He eyed both Belle and Arthur with and gave a cruel smirk that practically looked demonic. "You can't trespass on Murfee land without us knowing." Murmurs of agreement went through the group of men as each eyed the home and occupants who stood outside it with an animalistic glares and rotten grins.

"You have a habit of being followed. You know that Morgan?" Belle asked, stepping up to his left side. Just like last time, she was clearly ready for a fight.

"You know you don't have explosives this time, right?" Arthur felt the need to remind her.

"Yep." Belle winked back. "Might actually make this fun."

Arthur gave one last look over the group and silently wondered if he could give them a chance to leave. That idea was crapped when his thoughts went back to Beaver Hollow and the poor woman they had trapped in that god forsaken camp of there's. These men didn't deserve such a chance.

Taking in another deep breath, the world seemed to slow down as the first time in eight years, Arthur Morgan's hands shot to his holstered revolvers. And not too long after that, the thunder of gunfire echoed through the peaceful woodland air.

* * *

Charlotte cursed, wiping the sweat from her head as she rushed back to her home and towards the sound of a firefight. Why hadn't she expected this? Sheltering a wanted woman on the run from bounty hunters, of course that was gonna draw people towards her home, given enough time. Either that or the Murfee's Brood gang was moving further North. She had been set upon by such men in the past but that had always been when she traveled further south and closer to their established territory. They shouldn't be this far north, there's no one to rob or kill. Except her, of course.

She gripped her gun with a reserved courage and slowed her pace as she closed in on upon her home. The once loud cracking sounds of gunfire had been silenced and fearing the worst, Charlotte decided to move a bit quieter so as not to be spotted before she could survey the men whom had come to her home. She found a decent spot behind one the trees closer to her home and aimed her gun out towards the open area of her home.

"You're looking sloppy, Morgan." Belle's voice rang out from nearby. Charlotte wanted to let out a sigh of relief but couldn't until she spotted this Morgan she seemed to be talking to. The only Morgan she ever knew was...

Charlotte's train of thought came to a screeching halt when she saw the very man she was thinking of, standing near the door of her home, looking almost exactly the same as the last time they met. The man who had taken pity on her and taught her how to survive in this land. Charlotte slowly walked out from behind her tree and into view of the other two still living people in the area. "Arthur?" She smiled at the outlaw who looked to her and holstered his revolvers.

"Hey Ms. Charlotte." Arthur replied, he looked over the now deceased men of Murfee's Brood and shrugged. "I apologize for the mess."

Charlotte paid them no mind walking right by the bodies and quickly moving to Arthur only to give him a surprisingly strong hug. Arthur, so shocked by the action almost didn't return it. But after a few seconds passed, gave her a strong pat on the back as well. "I thought you were dead." She laughed.

"You and me both, Ms. Charlotte." Arthur replied. "You and me both."

* * *

 **A/N: Well, I think I'll call it a chapter here. Though out of pure curiosity I have to ask which of the romances you had wished for Arthur had he lived. Were guys Mary Linton fans? Mary-Beth fans? Charlotte Fans? Sadie Fans? Or even Belle fans? I know some of you are out there. It won't have any significance on the story as I made up my mind a while back, I was just wanting to know.**

 **Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed it, and I'll see you all later.**


	3. Chapter 3: Charlotte and Belle

As Black Belle rolled another former Brood member into the ditch, Arthur leaned up on his dirtied shovel and let out a few deep breaths. He had never liked digging holes. He'd spent too much time digging them for those he cared about at one time or another. But even before those troubling times, back when he was a young boy working any job he could find, he never liked the activity. One particular mound of dirt would always end up hurting his back and force him to halt his work. And now was no exception. As he groaned at the pain in his lower spine, Black Belle looked back to him with a sarcastic smile. "You miss any of this, while you were sleeping?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, I did not." He scowled down at the bodies of the dead men. "God damn fools."

"I'm surprised they came this far north." Black Belle said, grabbing a shovel of her own and sticking it into the mound of dirt and emptying it back into the ditch. "What few Brood members are left, stick closer to Annesburg." Belle felt a fleeting sense of optimism for the first time in decades. "Unless this was them."

"Would we be that lucky?" Arthur asked, never believing himself to be all that fortunate.

"Probably not," Belle answered, ruffling her hair. "But I'm getting old. Time to start letting everyone else be pessimistic."

Arthur chuckled as Belle continued to drop dirt into the ditch of the dead men. "Well if they are the last, I say good riddance."

"You familiar with 'em?" Belle asked.

"Had more than a few run-ins," Arthur replied. "Killed a camp of theirs at Beaver Hollow back before my...sleep." He groaned at the last word, still hating how it sounded. "Rescued a girl that was trapped inside their cave."

"She's lucky you found her when you did," Belle replied. "These sons of bitches weren't known for their kindness." She paused her shoveling and looked over him. "Beaver Hollow, you say?"

Arthur nodded. "It's where Du-," Arthur bit back the name of his former friend. "It's where my group last lived."

"A particularly famous group?"

Arthur shrugged. "Depends on who you talk to."

The shimmer of a smile appeared on Belle's lips. "Do you think I'm an idiot, Morgan?"

"No Ma'am."

"So why are you avoiding the name, Dutch Van der Linde?"

Just hearing the man's name managed to stir up some lingering anger in Arthur which Belle noticed as he clenched his fists. "Because the last time I saw him, he left me to die on a mountain after betraying everything I thought we stood for."

Belle's silence lingered until she returned to filling the ditch back up with dirt. "Forget I brought it up, then."

Arthur nodded and decided he'd rested long enough and went back to shoveling his own dirt back into the ditch. By the time they were done, a voice reached their ears.

"Hey," Arthur and Belle looked back towards the cabin at the sound of Charlotte's voice. "Food's cooking if you're hungry."

* * *

If the coffee Arthur had tasted was better than before. The roasted trout Charlotte had made was downright divine. Whether it was simply the first food he had tasted in years or if Charlotte was that good of a cook, he didn't really give a damn at that point.

"Enjoying the food?" Charlotte asked.

"It's excellent Ms. Charlotte. Thank you."

She waved him off. "Think nothing of it. It's the least I could do." She took a drink of her coffee before continuing. "If you don't mind me asking, what have you been up to, Arthur?"

"Taking a nap," Belle replied biting into her own fish.

"What?"

"She's not that far off," Arthur admitted rubbing the back of his neck. He really needed to find a better name for what happened to him than that. "The last thing I remember was passing out on a mountain in 1899."

Charlotte's eyes went wide. "1899?!"

Arthur nodded, barely holding back a smile at seeing the surprise on her face. The fact that he was seeing any face at all was still a miracle to him. "Believe me, I'm just as surprised as you are. When I went down," He thought back to John and the two bastards who had left him to die and felt his muscle tense up as he rubbed his chest. "I was sure I wouldn't get back up." He whispered.

Charlotte noticed his muscles going rigid and put her hand over his free one. "Well, can't say I'm a big believer in the almighty but that sounds like a miracle to me." She didn't try to hide her smile as Arthur looked over to her as if he'd been snapped out of a trance.

"I'm sure it sounds strange..." He continued.

"There's no sound about it, It _is_ strange." Belle piped back in wiping her mouth with her sleeve. "I've heard natives spew myths around a campfire that make more sense than a man falling asleep for nearly a decade and waking up. In the wilderness no less"

"As I said, I don't understand it either," Arthur replied.

"Well, you're alive and that's more than enough for me. " Charlotte said, looking down and seeing her hand was still over his and quickly pulling away. "And feeling better too, it looks like."

Arthur shrugged again as he pulled out the empty bottle of medicine Belle had given to him after that coughing fit. "That's another mystery."

"Who left you that stuff?" Belle asked. "Doctor of some kind?"

"A man named Francis Sinclair, according to a note," Arthur replied. "I met him out in the woods and helped him out by finding some rock carvings."

"Rock carvings?" Belle laughed.

"The man was more than a little strange." Arthur conceded. "But then he disappeared when I went back to see him after I found them all. He left this huge mess of papers nailed to his wall with a bunch of drawings on it." He rubbed his head as if the very act of recalling the event and the images stuck to the wall gave him a headache. "That was the last I seen of him. "

"So, all you did was help him find some carvings?" Belle asked.

Arthur could sense the condescending attitude in her voice and quickly defended himself. "Hey, it wasn't easy. I had to ride all over to find the bastards."

"I'm sure you did, Morgan." Belle nodded. "But when you really look at it, how does doing what you did, cause him to give you medicine that treats TB? Hell, where would he even get stuff like that?"

Arthur gestured to Belle. "See, now you're understanding my confusion."

"He couldn't have just seen you and thought you needed help?" Charlotte asked biting into her own fish. "It's not impossible for people to be kind, after all."

Arthur tilted his head. That was possible. The man was strange but he seemed good-natured. Maybe he just came across him in the wilderness and..." Arthur shook his head. There was still the fact that Buell was alive and well and that neither he nor Arthur had aged at all. There were just too many questions where Francis was concerned and the longer he thought on the man, the more his head hurt. "If it's all the same, I'd rather change the subject."

"Sure," Charlotte replied. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Has anything interesting happened over the last few years?" Arthur asked, hoping Charlotte's reply would be a bit more enlightening than Belle's.

"Define interesting."

Arthur went silent for a moment and mentally sorted through all the questions he had. "You hear anything of Dutch Van der Linde or a group of his?"

Charlotte narrowed her gaze as she thought before shaking her head. "Nothing comes to mind. Not since his gang made national news with that train heist back in '99."

"National news?"

Charlotte got up from her table and moved over towards her bedroom. "I always pick up some newspapers whenever I need to head into town for supplies. Just a little extra reading to pass the time."

"And you just keep 'em around?" Belle asked, surprised as much as Arthur was by the quirk.

"It passes the time." Charlotte defended, combing through a pile of perfectly folded up papers until she found what she was looking for. "And about a month after I last saw you, I saw this headline." She walked back over to Arthur and handed him an almost decade-old newspaper. It's headline, DUTCH VAN DER LINDE DISAPPEARED.

Arthur let out a depressed chuckle as he continued to read. "Of course they didn't get him."

"Lost him in the Heartlands, I think," Charlotte replied, crossing her arms as she sat back down in her chair. "Maybe I missed it in the papers recently but I'm fairly certain he hasn't been heard from since."

Arthur crumpled the edge of the newspaper in his hands as he read about the train robbery, the attempted capture at Beaver Hollow, and his subsequent escape across the Heartlands. Dutch's luck with escapes was almost as reliable as the federal government's incompetence, so it didn't surprise him too much that him, Javier, Bill, and Micah had once again slipped through the Pinkertons' fingers.

No, what was far more interesting is that this might've been the last time Dutch did something big. In all the years Arthur had known him, he'd never stay too quiet for this long. Certainly not for almost a decade. The only reason Arthur could think of why he'd stay quiet that long was if he had finally gathered enough money to retire like he always said he would.

He looked away from the paper and over to Charlotte who seemed to be trying to gauge his reaction as he read. "I must admit, I'm not sure I would've been that trusting of you when we first met had I known you were an outlaw."

Arthur sighed, fearing he'd have to explain that part of his life to her sooner or later. "Look, I..."

"Now don't you start trying to make him feel guilty," Belle spoke up for him.

"I'm not," Charlotte replied. "Just stating a fact." She looked back at Arthur and smiled. "It doesn't change what you did for me, so don't worry about me kicking you out or anything."

Arthur felt his gratitude to the woman deepen and returned the smile. "Thank you."

Belle swallowed her last bit of fish before speaking up again. "So, now that we can talk about the bastard," She turned to Arthur with a wildfire in her eyes. "You planning on hunting Van der Linde down?"

"I ain't sure yet," Arthur said. "Why?"

Belle leaned back in her chair and shrugged. "Just wondering. Things do get boring out here."

Charlotte reached over and lightly punched Belle's shoulder. "If you don't like it, you can go." She pointed out.

"I'm not saying it's bad," Belle replied, rubbing her shoulder. "Just offering my help, if he wants it."

Arthur chuckled at the women and scratched his head. Going after Dutch was an option but if he hadn't been seen for almost a decade, what were the chances of Arthur finding him? If he did actually score enough money to retire, he could be anywhere. Canada, New York, Guarma, goddamn Tahiti, it didn't matter. Despite his hatred for the man his father figure had become, Arthur didn't want to waste his new found life chasing after a ghost.

"I don't want to waste my time looking for a fool," Arthur replied, looking over to Belle. "But thanks for offering."

"Sure," Belle nodded. "So what are you planning to do, Morgan?"

Arthur thought for a moment before looking out towards the window. The sun was still high in the sky and Buell looked bored standing outside. "Right now, just enjoy the day."

* * *

Arthur spent the rest of the daylight out on Buell riding through the wilderness surrounding Charlotte's cabin. The fear of Pinkertons finding him was long gone and now Arthur could enjoy the wind in his face, the sound of the trees, and the echo of a far off train whistle, as Buell carried him down the winding road. He always did his best thinking like this, and thinking was exactly what he needed to do right now. Just what the hell was he going to do? For the longest time, he'd been under the impression he was a dead man walking. He'd been throwing himself into suicidal situations, helping people he wouldn't have wasted time on a few years earlier, and trying his damnedest to act like a better man than he actually was.

If Francis' note was real and he actually had a chance at a future now, what was he supposed to do with it? He'd already ruled out searching for Dutch and Francis himself, finding Charles was a possibility that needed to be looked at further, but who else could he look for? Charles? Sadie? Mary-beth? Karen? Pearson? Tilly? Where was he going to start? He reached up to scratch his head and noticed he didn't have his hat.

His thoughts came to a halt. John. Abigail. Jack. They were all still out there. He had nothing to base it on aside from a gut feeling, but he knew they were alive somewhere. The fire he saw in Marston's eyes back on the mountain was all the proof he needed to believe he'd found them and got them away from that chaos. If John had actually listened to Arthur and actually built them a life somewhere, the last thing he needed to do was show up on their doorstep like an unwanted ghost. He didn't need to try and find them just because they had his hat. He sighed as he scratched his head. But he still did miss that thing. And his notebook for that matter. He'd have to get a new one sooner or later.

The echo of a far off wolf's howl changed Arthur's train of thought as he remembered the three men who had sided with Dutch over him and John. First, there was Javier. He was probably Arthur's least hated of the three. Arthur and he had always gotten along until that disaster in Guarma. Hell, even when things came to ahead in Beaver Hollow, he was the only one on Dutch's side who didn't fully raise his gun at him and John. Arthur wasn't sure what he would do if he crossed paths with him again and that was more than he could say for the other two.

Bill was the next man Arthur thought of. Out of everyone else in the gang, Bill was the only one who never cared for the idea of making enough money to never be heard from again. To him, the money was just a nice bonus. He loved the chaos of being an outlaw and often talked about someday having a gang of his own. One that was every bit as wild and dangerous as he was. Arthur knew he'd still be out there causing mayhem where ever he could and since it had been almost a decade, maybe he did have his own gang now to help him. If they ever crossed paths again, Arthur was fairly certain he'd have to kill him. If nothing else, to help Shaun rest easy after the fool got him killed.

That just left Micah. Arthur's hands shook at just thinking of the bastard. If Dutch had led them all to the point of destruction, Micah was the one who pointed him in the right direction. The rat had been tearing up the gang practically since he joined up and not a day went by that Arthur didn't think he'd been better off leaving him in Strawberry to be hanged. Micah had sold them all out to the Pinkertons, shot Susan, and nearly killed him on the mountain. The only real hiccup in his plan was that Dutch didn't join him at the end. A memory that Arthur still felt proud of. If there was a man he might go out of his way to track down and kill, it would be him.

By sunset, Arthur was back at Charlotte's cabin standing out on the deck with the only women who knew he was alive.

"You sure you don't want help tracking Van der Linde?" Belle asked, rocking back in her chair with her Lancaster on her arm.

Arthur thought for a moment before shaking his head. "Before everything happened, he told me revenge was a fool's errand. And despite whatever he is now, he's right about that."

"You're a better man than me Morgan," Belle replied. "If I was left to die on a mountain and I survived..." She clicked her tongue and Arthur wondered just what kind of hell she'd have brought down on someone who'd done that to her. "But yours is probably the smarter move."

She was right, it was the smarter move not waste time on vengeance. But his ride had reminded Arthur that he was a bit of a hypocrite as well. "Then again," Arthur chuckled. "I've never been all that smart, and even if I don't go after Dutch, Micah's a bastard I'd love to see put in the ground."

"So what are you planning to do then?" Belle asked, ceasing her rocking. "Go after him?"

Arthur leaned back against the outer wall of Charlotte's cabin."I'm not quite sure."

"Your welcome to stay here, if you want," Charlotte said, looking up from her book. "I've made a nice home here and it's only possible thanks to you."

Arthur shuffled his feet at her gaze. "I wouldn't want to impose..."

"Morgan, she's already offered," Belle laughed at the outlaw. "Besides, living out my days with another outlaw doesn't sound too bad. We can swap stories or something."

"Why can't you and I swap stories?" Charlotte asked over to Belle.

Belle shrugged her shoulders. "What kind of stories could you have?"

"There was the time I saw a bear in the woods..."Belle gestured her hand towards the woman as if she had just proved her point. "It was a big bear though." Charlotte defended.

"Did you track it down or shoot it?" Arthur asked, barely hiding a smile.

"No." Charlotte huffed. "You could've emptied a dozen bullets at that thing straight in the eyes and all it would've done is make it mad."Arthur let out a laugh as Belle chuckled at the woman who now buried her face in her book. "Fine, what story could you have?"

Belle tilted her head as she thought of a wild adventure from her younger days."There was the time I robbed two stagecoaches and a train in five hours."

"I don't really see how that compares," Arthur told Belle. "You gotta remember, Charlotte saw a big bear."

It was Belle's turn to let out a laugh as Charlotte's face went red with embarrassment. Charlotte likely would've changed the conversation until Arthur yawned.

"Gettin' tired?" Belle asked.

"Nah," Arthur waved her off. "Just a little air in the lungs, nothing to..." Arthur felt his knees buckle and a familiar pain in his chest reappear. A cough erupted from his mouth and by the time the second followed, Charlotte was already on her feet to get his medicine but Arthur held up a hand to stop her. "Just...give me a second." Arthur wheezed out as another few coughs came up from his throat. Despite the surprise, the pain that usually came with each cough wasn't as bad as had been before. A more than welcome step compared to the last few months before he went down. "On second thought, I think I'll call it a day."

"Good," Charlotte replied. "I've set up a place for you inside. Get some rest."

"He's been resting for a decade!" Belle called out as Arthur moved inside. "You want him to relax, go grab some liquor and put on a sho-"

"You know, there's a bear out there if you want another story to swap around!" Charlotte yelled back to the outlaw. Arthur laughed ass he sat down on a makeshift mattress Charlotte had set up. They were two very different people than the ones he used to run with, but hearing friendly voices again as he drifted off, made him more than a little nostalgic for the gang. He wanted to see them again, Sadie, Charles, anyone he could without ruining thier lives. That was probably selfish of him but he didn't care. He had a second chance now, and before anything else he wanted to make sure the people he cared about were all right.

And with that plan in place, Arthur drifted off to what would hopefully be a much shorter sleep

* * *

 **A/N: So, this came out a whole hell of a lot later than I thought it would but hey, that's the way it works. Hope you guys enjoyed it and let me know your thoughts either way. Next chapter we keep the ball rolling.**

 **See ya later.**


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